Alone is okay.

When you’re a kid, sometimes other children may poke fun at you because they see you sitting by the wall alone while they are playing on the playground. You just want to play by yourself or even sing songs to yourself.

When you’re a teenager, other teens calls you boring because you don’t want to drink underage or even in general and you’d rather stay inside on a friday night watching your favourite movie, rather than go to house parties or clubs with your friends. Being around people either brings you anxiety or you just prefer to spend time alone with your own thoughts.

When you’re an adult, many other adults will notice that you can barely keep a job long enough to even say that you’ve had a job or you don’t have a partner so you won’t most likely won’t find one in a long time. Maybe it’s just hard for you to be around people or even animals for some, maybe depression makes its’ way into your head and drags you down and makes it harder for you to make it out of the house for even as something simple as a coffee.

Regardless, it’s okay to have mental illnesses. They don’t define you. It’s also okay to prefer to be alone. Sometimes for some people, being alone is more beneficial for them than conversing with someone else.

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Decaying Pathogens

My eyes are glazing over with the blossoming of the sunlight                                                                                                             Clear my gaze with the extended clarity that embarks your every move

My heart is growing weaker underneath the sweaty beating rays by the sun                                                                                        Water my slowly disintegrating stringed-together breed

My soul just keeps absorbing everything in its path amongst the destructive pathogens                                                                    Make way for the decaying bumps stemming from the root of my entire existence

My lungs want to fill up with plants instead of the oxygen that they shower the world with                                                                 Tear down the barriers that are preventing my chest from becoming lightened beneath the glowing canopies

There’s art in every inch of every city. New or old.

Do you ever just want to be alone, even if you’re at your saddest point?

I know that I do, I want to be alone because for once, I’m trying to figure out who I am, what I’m made of, what I can do, what i want to do and where I’m going and if it means that I have a better chance of figuring all of those things out, then I’ll do it alone.

I was in another city today. One I don’t go to often, but I’ve been to before on some occasions. I don’t know it very well, as there’s some parts of my own home city that I don’t know of yet. As I was walking with a friend and their friend, I was admiring the shininess of some of the buildings, the height of them, the people walking by, the different stores and restaurants. something about it, something about the business, the homeless, the poor, the rich, the sketchiness, was beautiful 

I don’t know what made all of that beautiful, but maybe it was the fact that they all seemed to flow together well, even though separately, all of those things are very different. 

I feel like going back and discovering more of the city alone. I don’t go out often and I get panicky and scared to explore on my own sometimes, but I want to go this time. I want to come across things that I think are brand new, but aren’t to others, just to myself. 

There’s art in every corner of every city. There’s art in the way the stores are put together along the streets, there’s beauty in the chaos of the cars and noises.

 

Stringed Mind

I can’t stand straight
See forward
Breathe softly
The alcohol is calling me
But tonight, I’m answering
Only the things that don’t
Scream my name
Or cry onto me
Here I am
Attempting to
Ignore the overwhelming
Emotion
Not only is it dark
Because at some point
Even the darkness had some
Light to it
This is different
It’s never seen the sun
It’s been sitting
Cradled
Nestled within my very rib cage
Heart you guess, no
Alive you ask, no
Dead you assume, no
Existent you ponder, no
It’s not a heart
It isn’t alive
is not dead
Nor does it exist
For it is something made up
To define one’s inner self
Numb to the core, it is

Dying to come back to life
But it was never alive
Never even breathing

Yet it still somehow
Yearns for my touch
My reply
My everything

Almost giving in
I reach my fingers across
The strings
Strumming
Harder and harder
Against the guitar
Faster and faster
The more I hold it in

I’m bursting, I say
Continue to play me, it said
I’m deeply saddened, I stuttered
Have faith in me, it replied
I just want to be loved, I cried
You’ve given up on me, but I’m still here, it answered

Still I sit here, trying to think of
Something clever to tell you
To sing to you
But all of my words
Come out as jumbled as my brain

Never try to pick through all
Of the layers of anyone
For even if you do
You will wish you never had
For the secrets that lie within
Are so scarily disturbing
That even the person
Withholding this
Information
These patterns
Can’t figure out
What’s going on
Nor do they know how to
Control it

Every fear
Every diagnosis
Every label
Every disease
It somehow allows us
To stick
To define
To mould to it
Like a shape shifter

This time it’s broken
There is no liquid
To turn solid into
A blasphemous shape